One Christmas Tale and a New Year Wish

When certain conditions are met, and are agreeable to History, tales are often told.

The Man and very Young Woman traveled by night, and the calmness of the clear, temperate air seemed a contradiction to the fear that seeped into everything once folks had gone indoors for the evening. It was people that were to be avoided, as the fear was everywhere, like water or air. With the foreign army very recently in control, its own concerns were with the small Pockets of Resistance, which by turn gave the local, indigenous Religious Councils the fuel they needed to turn over folk who appeared in any way a threat to the promise of power they hoped to gain by collaboration with the foreigners.

The Young Woman wore the clothing required by the local council, covering her gender that was by nature deemed tainted in sin. This homespun fabric also concealed the sin of her rape, which had resulted in her pregnancy. The Man and Young Woman traveled under the fabric of night into farther towns, in fear of the Man of Good Council, who wished to gain power by helping the foreigners. They passed stones that would be thrown at her, lethal stones to be stumbled upon more safely at night. The Man of Good Council had raped her, and upon his word local stones could fly. The Man with her now she may have called brother, or cousin, or uncle. Stepping quietly and softly, now she called him Husband.

Little is known of her because she was just barely more than a child when a child she was given. Because of her circumstance what little education she may have been awarded was halted, as were any child dreams. But loved she was by her family and neighbors, and wanted as a thing to take, to have and to destroy by the Man of the Good Council. One imagines her fecundity would have been a problem for him, most easily buried under stones that would bring her silence. The Husband was known as a kind man who would repair houses. All of his neighbors loved him for his gentleness in speech and song. When the situation of the girl was made clear to him, he agreed to deliver her through the night, away from the silencing stones.

The neighborhood they walked away from that night, from which they were born, was comprised of simple dwellings and Sturdy Folk. They told stories that unfolded from the land. Stories they knew well, stories that had happened to them. This land of simple dwellings and of stories had been pushed and pulled by whatever occupying force happened to command the roads that ran to and from it. The people who populated this region had slowly been trained in Punishment and Reward, and were judged by the degree that they helped foreigners take command of the roads that went to and from this stony homeland. The folk that refused to play the game, Punishment and Reward learned that to survive they had to form Pockets of Resistance. The Young Woman and Husband were from a long line of such people, and in their movement they began to trace a new story on the land.

The Good Council had agreed that the Young Woman was an adulteress, as she was with child and in the company of a man gentle of voice and song who was called Husband, but was probably brother, uncle or cousin. This agreement of the Good Council meant that the woman was to be silenced with hurtful stones, as it was the most likely activity to protect the Man within the Council who in leisure raped young girls. The Husband and Woman in homespun fabric went from house to simple house along the fearful road looking for a place where the child could be born away from things that could not be seen in the temperate night air. All the dwellings feigned sleep, tightly shut.

Some things that could not be seen were Those Who Lived Apart. These were people who had been cast out by the Sturdy Folk, afraid as they were of those who suffered disease, or affliction of thought and spirit. Those Who Lived Apart wandered into the towns and villages at night seeking scraps of food, or helpful things that had been discarded by the villagers. One Who Lived Apart called himself Shepard. He had forgotten his name. He called himself Shepard because he gathered and protected things.

Fear of what could not be seen in the temperate night was erased by the fear that preceded the birth of the child. A body experiences pain, convulses and contracts, looses fluids. The Husband of gentle voice felt helpless and responsible for a safety he knew nothing about, the Young Woman felt only her body. Her fear had been abstracted, that is, removed from language and thought. The Husband sang her a simple song, softly.

Shepard crouched silently at the edge of a small grove of olive trees. The starlight danced within the branches and leaves, approving of this One Who Gathered and Protected Things. This Shepard. He heard a gentle voice singing softly in the night. The simple song was accompanied by sharp sounds of pain that were too loud for the temperate night air. Shepard watched and saw the silhouetted forms of Husband and Young Woman. Because he was invisible, Shepard could see what could not be seen, but was there anyway. Because of what Shepard saw, he knew that this strange vision should be gathered and protected.

When Husband and Young Woman saw Shepard walking towards them they were not afraid. They could see he was invisible and meant no harm. Away from the dwellings that feigned sleep and into the branches and leaves, Shepard led them to a safe place where he gathered and protected things. It was a place for Those Who Lived Apart. Long ago it was a simple dwelling for Sturdy Folk who had long since vanished. The walls still stood erect, and over them Shepard had stretched several blankets and animal skins to keep the warm air inside. Already there was a small fire tended by the Wise Three, friends of Shepard’s who were visiting from a distant place. A Place Apart.

The Wise Three had been cast out by the Sturdy Folk because of their knowledge of the stars. They spoke of the stars as a light that was the True Home, and of stars that traced paths across the heavens, paths that could be followed to a place of knowledge and belonging. The Wise Three were cast out of their village because they believed all laws and rules of men to be false. They would not play Punishment and Reward, nor would they form Pockets of Resistance. They only followed the paths traced by stars. Sometimes they would visit Shepard to give him things to protect.

In the remains of the simple dwelling the Young Woman could only feel her body. It convulsed and contracted with concentration. With intent. She was near the small fire, which spread warmth across her concentrating skin. The Child was near. The Man gentle of voice and song remained so. He sang softly to diminish the tension revolving around the remains of the small room like a spirit. The Three Wise soaked in the stars that flickered and danced through the smoke, which drifted up to the heavens. As they listened to the stars Shepard spoke protection spells. Protecting the Child, who was soon born. And the tension stopped revolving, drifted upwards with smoke. The Husband gently stroked the hair of the young Woman, who in body, relaxed. Shepard cleaned the newborn boy, protecting him from the shock of the temperate night air. The Wise Three looked carefully at the tiny palms of the newborn, reading the maps engraved upon them by the stars.

Wise One;

The Child will not live to see an old age.

No Shepard can protect him

The Child will die by the will of The Good Council

No Demon will sway him

The Child will be loved by Those Who Live Apart

Wise Two;

The Child will say many things that will be remembered for thousands of years

No Stone will he throw

The Child will have kingdoms rise, fall and make war in his name

Kindness begat Kindness

The Child will be greatly misunderstood by all

Wise Three;

The Child will not be remembered laughing

Violence Begat Violence

The Child will remember gentle songs

The Unclean and the Tainted in Sin will he adore

The Child will repair houses

And morning came. Things were visible. Stones held still. The Child knew nothing.

A New Year Wish

The rain falls as if bored.

The cobbled streets and stoned sidewalks littered

with thousands of spent explosives.

The City is a brick hangover.

The kitchen shelves are wiped clean.

The laundry room walls are washed,

window frames paint now free of smoke stains.

Coal in the furnace keeps the chill outside

where it watches, wanting to come in

and be free of itself.

Intricate patterns of swirling, droning guitar

pick up speed and slow down again,

played by a dead man. (thanks, Jack!)

Imperial sadness shimmers through the rooms.

War, famine, flood and sickness are children

just now sleeping on their mother's cold lap.

She spins, waiting for better days.

Can there be a City if everyone has gone?

Every film, in every home and cinema is on endless loop

as the City tries to remember.

Peace now, convulsive world!

Drift to sleep with a smile on your face.

Remembering the festivities of last night;

            the image of dancing through a laced window curtain.